marriage

A week or so ago I started shopping for a wedding dress, and guess what? Shopping for a wedding dress sucks!

The other day on Facebook, one of my friends remarked that I was a “later-in-life” bride.

While I would like to think that I paused for a minute or two to think about what it means to be American, I was mostly focused on looking forward to the fireworks show.
But all of that changed for me last year. Three weeks before the Fourth of July, my husband became a citizen of the United States.

A simple flu shot would have changed everything. It would have saved my family and I a lot of heartache; it would have prevented me and my son from facing life-changing health effects; and it would have granted me all of the stolen memories from that time that I now can’t get back.

Don’t talk politics. Do. Not. This old adage is more important than ever this year, with an election that started off bad and has gotten consistently worse.

Now that I’ve turned 30 (and wear caftans) I’m done reading vapid click-bait offering prosaic advice. This is not one of those articles.

Hate hurts us all, but we don’t all receive it with the same systemic intensity. Those of us with the privilege to do so need to push against the borders of what is “permissible” in this society. We need challenge the idea of “normal” — rather than conform to it — so that all of us can live more closely to our truths.

I’m in my early 20s and he’s in his 40s. He’s my 6-year-old brother’s best friend’s father. He’s old enough to be my dad too, actually. He’s got four kids — all with different moms (one who is my age).